Today is our 33rd wedding anniversary.

I love my husband to bits. But after all this time, it still amazes me how opposite we are in so many ways.

We are totally opposite in physique.

I lived in the same house until I got married.  Clive lived in more than twenty.

I am extremely ‘aesthetically affected’ – Clive not so much.  He can work amongst chaos, whereas I need to have my surroundings in order before I can even begin to think clearly.

I am quick to speak, often before thinking.  Alas, there have been many times when I have started talking only to wish I hadn’t.  But then the problem is, if you start a sentence and then stop after the first few words, people tend to look at you funny.  Clive is a lot slower to speak and, as a result, doesn’t normally regret what he says.

Pregnant pauses in conversations are super-uncomfortable for me, whereas Clive is quite at home in a conversational lull.  Thinking time, you see.

Clive thinks people chasing a ball around a field is serious business.  I think it’s just weird.

I get excited – easily, and about many things.  Clive doesn’t get excited, like EVER.

Clive has an inbuilt compass.  I get lost in my own house.

I get scared and anxious.  Clive simply doesn’t.  He honestly, truly does not worry about things.  He doesn’t get butterflies in his tummy, he doesn’t get a dry mouth, he doesn’t get a racing heartbeat.  He doesn’t experience feelings of dread.  No hot or cold sweats.  He doesn’t experience low moods.  He doesn’t experience panic.  

When undertaking a venture, Clive thinks about things and plans what he can.  Then, if problems arise, he just works his way through them – no panic, no dramas.  That’s why he doesn’t worry.  He doesn’t see the need.  Problems will arise, and they can be sorted out.  Mr Pragmatic, all the way.

I often wish I could swap brains with him, just for a little bit.  I would like to know what it’s like to be him.

He’s lived with me long enough now to have a fairly good understanding of what it is to be me.  When I complain about the unfairness of it all he always replies with “Honey, we’re all wired differently”.  Sigh.  (That’s me sighing, not him.  I do most of the sighing in our household.)

But while we’re still alive and kicking, there is always room to work on ourselves and re-tweak that wiring. 

Along the re-tweaking line, I’ve been doing a bit of reading about courage this week.  

I love this quote by Nelson Mandela: “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”

I feel quite encouraged by that.

I’ve also come across a beautiful author by the name of Susan Cain, who writes “…we all know that fear is a universally powerful emotion, and we all know how terrible terror feels. Thus, we should grasp that feeling afraid and acting anyway is a form of nobility.”. Isn’t that just lovely? She also writes that “Courage is a habit, a muscle you can exercise. Most of us aren’t born courageous, so we shouldn’t expect to magically acquire it without practice.”.

Another wonderful author, Brené Brown, describes courage as a habit or virtue. “You get it by courageous acts. It’s like you learn to swim by swimming. You learn courage by couraging.”

Well, I did a bit of couraging practice myself this week and have subsequently learnt the following:  

1. Starting a petrol weed-eater is not easy.
2. Weed-eaters are heavy.
3. Extendable hedge-trimmers are even heavier!
4. Mowing lawns is satisfying.
5. Leaf-blowers make a real difference in life.
6. Weeding (properly) can be EXTREMELY time-consuming.
7. I can drive a manual transmission truck (a baby one anyway).  Yay me!
8. Wisteria might one day take over the world. Honestly.

Thank you R.A. It encourages me every day. xx